France is no longer world football champion, and as if returning from summer camp, we already want to call our friends to reminisce about the strongest memories. This goal ball from the amazing Randal Kolo Muani at the last minute of extra time. This memorable volley from Kylian Mbappé at the end of hell, that is to say in the 81st minute of a match during which we did not see the light of day most of the time. But also, let’s remember, the emotional lift against England and the monumental headbutt of Olivier Giroud, about to go out. Mbappé’s childish laughter, after Harry Kane’s missed penalty. The two masterpieces of the great Kylian against Poland, the silky tackles and brilliant thrusts of the phenomenal Antoine Griezmann. Our pure joy on goals, every time. Sport has this strength to anchor in us intense emotions and lasting memories. Where were you on France-Argentina day? In fifteen years, you will still know how to say it. And you will remember how you felt at the time of those cruel shots on goal.
We were predicted an absolute non-event, come back in four years. It is true that the “weak signals”, as the economists of dinners in town like to say, seemed to announce a disaster. Who had the idea of a World Cup with minus two degrees outside temperature? Usually, the period of the World Cup mingles with the arrival of fine weather, when lighter outfits accompany a new found good mood and the hope of a happy summer. This year, you have to arm yourself with your best scarves, or even FFP2 masks for the most cautious, in order to brave the triple Covid-flu-bronchiolitis epidemic, while monitoring your bank account burdened by all-out price increases. The injuries of our most brilliant players, Paul Pogba, N’Golo Kanté and Karim Benzema, had almost finished distracting us from all hope. And what about Qatar? The identity of the host country, which you had to be very dizzy to discover only in 2022, since the choice took place in 2010, spectacularly completed this dark picture. A priori, it was difficult to see oneself exulting for a competition obtained under the suspicion of corruption, organized in stadiums built by the blood shed by thousands of Nepalese, Bangladeshi or Indian workers. We were wrong.
Tarantinesque Tournament
Because the hearings broke records. The France-Morocco semi-final attracted 20.69 million viewers on TF1, that is to say more than the 2018 World Cup final, France-Croatia, but also slightly more, for example, than France -Brazil in 1998. And we finally begin to smile when we think back to the very lively debate in media circles on the boycott of the competition, a few weeks ago. A suggestion relayed with passion by a small part of the intelligentsia, composed mainly, it seems, of people who do not appreciate this sport. In an audiaresque formula, the emblematic supporter Clément d’Antibes summed things up with our colleagues from Marianne : “Boycott when you don’t like football, it’s easy, I’m going to boycott jasmine tea”. As always, the ratings rose crescendo from the round of 16, as we saw the fascinating scenario of the competition being written before us, similar to a Tarantino film where the twists and exploits of charismatic heroes accumulate without any downtime. Kylian Mbappé and Leo Messi played the role of nemesis with unlimited talent.
There is something else. In recent days, a new journalistic maxim pronounced a little too quickly would have liked France to have “become Germany”. A reference to the legendary phrase of Gary Lineker, ex-scorer for the England team, who declared, one evening of defeat in the semi-finals of the World Cup, in 1990, that “football is a simple game” : “twenty-two men run after a ball for 90 minutes, and in the end, Germany wins”. The cynical pragmatism of the Germans, verified many times – we are talking about football here – would have become that of the French, thanks to a few victories against the run of play and a man, coach Didier Deschamps. With his obsession with winning and his propensity, it is said, to attract luck to his advantage, “Dédé” would have erased the inferiority complex of the French, whose existence cannot be denied. Just look at the number of books inspired by France-Germany 1982 or Raymond Poulidor, up to a “Praise of defeat”, published by Laurent-David Samama and Jérémie Peltier in 2020. In “magnificent losers”, we have long wanted to retain only “magnificent”, because it reinforced our image of romantic people with sublime intuitions, even if the result left something to be desired. In our heart of hearts, the word “losers” nevertheless resonated painfully, and the scar burned even more keenly this Sunday, perhaps because it echoed the cliché of a great country trapped in its great principles, unable to reform to win again. In this sense, the diversion of the “Lineker theorem” is a track which makes it possible to explain the enthusiasm around the World Cup.
No offense to the grinders of sad passions
Only, where there is an error is that France never became Germany. It has become France again. And that’s perhaps the most beautiful thing about these Blues. By the values they have released – the abnegation of a Giroud, the mature talent of a Mbappé, the courage of Tchouaméni, Rabiot, the confusing nerve of a Kolo Muani or a Marcus Thuram – we should to mention them all, even those who played less well in the final – our players carry the French spirit to the highest level. In 2010, in South Africa, when their inglorious predecessors had refused to train, the space of an afternoon, the sporting fiasco had taken on the appearance of revealing a broken society. The Minister of Sports, Roselyne Bachelot, had also scolded “immature bosses” who “command frightened kids”.
This time it’s the other way around. The most imbecile despisers of the France team were not mistaken there. When, in a song of crass racism relayed more than 20,000 times on Twitter, Argentine supporters mock the African origins of certain French players – “They play in France but are all from Angola” – they point out precisely what makes the strength of our country. Belonging to the Nation is not prejudged by blood ancestry but by the sharing of common values, put to the test like never before during sporting effort. This comeback from nowhere against Argentina, which, let’s be honest, hardly anyone believed after 79 minutes, is a magnificent illustration of French inspiration, self-sacrifice and courage.
Obviously, all of this remains a simple game, which does not erase the problems of our society with a magic slate. But all the same, let’s not sulk our pleasure. No offense to crushers of sad passions, the unfortunate final of this beautiful French team reminds the whole world that our model can still topple mountains.